Chapter 70 The end of the Queen
The palace halls had never been so silent. Chandlok’s great fortress, once alive with courtiers, music, and laughter, now felt like a tomb. Every torch along the walls flickered weakly, as if the flames themselves feared what was about to unfold.
Hatim walked through the corridor, his footsteps heavy, his sword at his side. His chest burned with emotions he could not name — betrayal, sorrow, guilt, and a rage that threatened to consume him whole.
He had faced battles before, but none compared to this.
Behind him, Sana followed at a distance. She didn’t speak, didn’t try to stop him. She knew this was his war, one he had to fight with his own blood. Her hand clutched the crescent pendant at her neck, the faint glow of her parents’ blessing soothing her trembling heart.
At the end of the hall, gilded double doors loomed — Roshni’s private chamber. The Queen’s lair.
Hatim pushed them open.
Inside, Roshni stood before her jeweled mirror, her face pale but her eyes still gleaming with a venomous light. She did not flinch when she saw him. Instead, she smiled — that same smile she had used to manipulate kings and crush enemies.
“My son,” she said smoothly, her voice dripping with false warmth. “You’ve come at last.”
Hatim’s jaw tightened. “Do not call me that.”
Roshni tilted her head, feigning hurt. “Why not? You are my blood. My only child. Everything I’ve done, I did for you.”
“For me?” His voice cracked with fury. “You murdered Chandini. You tried to erase her daughter. You poisoned this kingdom with your lies. And now, you dare say it was for me?”
Roshni’s smile faltered, but only for a moment.
“You do not understand. You were a child. You couldn’t see the dangers she posed.
Chandini was weak, sentimental. If I had allowed her and her child to live, the people would have turned against me.
They would have torn apart the throne I built for you. ”
Hatim’s hand clenched at his side. His voice trembled. “You built nothing for me. You built everything for yourself.”
The Queen’s eyes hardened, though her words remained honeyed. “You are mistaken. You are my legacy, Hatim. My heir. My pride. I sacrificed everything so you could rule.”
“Rule?” His laugh was bitter, broken. “You did not raise a King. You raised a weapon. A puppet. Every decision I made, every cruelty I dealt, every innocent life I condemned — it was your hand moving mine.”
Roshni’s voice sharpened, cracks showing in her mask. “And still, you are King. Because of me. Do not forget that, boy.”
Hatim’s breath came ragged, his eyes burning. He stepped closer, sword quivering at his side. “Tell me, then. If you did everything for me… how could you kill my child?”
Roshni stiffened, her smile faltering.
Hatim’s voice shattered into grief, tears welling in his eyes. “Yes. I know. I know you ordered Sana’s death. I know you tried to poison her. That child was your own blood — your grandchild. How could you? How could you snatch a child from her mother when you yourself are a mother?”
For the first time, Roshni faltered. Her mask slipped, revealing the steel beneath. Her lips curled in disdain. “Because weakness breeds weakness. That child — Sana — was a curse upon us all. Just like her mother.”
Hatim’s chest heaved. His sword arm trembled. “No… no, you are wrong. She is not a curse. She is light itself. She is everything you could never be.”
The Queen’s eyes blazed, venom dripping from every word. “You are a fool. You always were. Without me, you are nothing. Without me, you would have been crushed under the weight of the crown. I made you. And you dare stand against me?”
Hatim’s heart twisted. He could barely breathe. Every memory of her — her cold lessons, her harsh punishments, her twisted love — came flooding back. He remembered how she praised his cruelty but never his kindness. How she celebrated his victories but never comforted his tears.
And in that moment, the boy inside him broke.
“You taught me everything,” Hatim whispered, voice shaking, “everything… but love.”
Roshni’s face hardened, but he went on, tears streaming now. “You taught me power. You taught me fear. You taught me how to destroy. But never… never did you teach me how to love. I was just your puppet.”
His grip tightened on the sword. His voice cracked like thunder.
“But no more.”
Before Roshni could move, before she could twist another lie, Hatim raised his blade — and in one swift motion, plunged it into her chest.
The Queen gasped, eyes wide in shock. Her jeweled crown slipped from her head, clattering to the floor. She staggered, her silks darkening with blood.
“Hatim…” she rasped, her voice trembling now, no longer regal, no longer powerful. Just human. “My son…”
Hatim shook his head, tears streaming down his face as he held the hilt, his whole body trembling. “I was never your son. Not truly. I was only your shadow.”
Her hand reached for his cheek, trembling, but he stepped back.
“Don’t…” Hatim whispered, his voice cracking.
Roshni’s hand hovered in the air, shaking, her breath growing shallow. “You think I hated her, don’t you?” she rasped, her lips quivering. “Chandini…”
Hatim froze. Sana stepped closer from behind him, her eyes wide and wet.
“I never hated her,” Roshni whispered, tears now streaking down her painted face. “She was like a sister to me… my only friend. But as we grew older, everyone praised her — her beauty, her grace, her powers. I… I became jealous. It poisoned me long before I ever poisoned anyone else.”
She coughed, blood staining her lips, “So I… I told our father it was time Chandini married, that she should have a happy life away from the court. I didn’t know she loved Aarav — that he was the man who made her smile when the world turned cruel. Had I known… had I known…”
Her voice broke completely. “I would have never done it. But my jealousy blinded me. Because of me, she suffered. Because of me, her love story was destroyed.”
Hatim’s sword slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor. His chest ached as he listened, unable to look away.
Roshni’s eyes softened with distant memories.
“Your father… he loved me dearly. He even banished Chandini for me. But I… I could never understand love. I wanted power. I wanted to stand alone, above all. So I killed him — the one man who loved me despite my flaws.” Her voice trembled.
“That was the first time I truly became a monster.”
She struggled to stand straighter, but her knees buckled. Hatim instinctively reached out to steady her. For the first time in years, her touch wasn’t cold.
“I raised you to be ruthless,” she whispered. “When other mothers treated wounds, I made you fight through them. I told myself it would make you strong, but I only made you cruel. Forgive me, Hatim… my son. You were never meant to carry my sins.”
Tears rolled down Hatim’s cheeks.
“And your love for her…” Roshni’s gaze turned toward Sana, her lips trembling. “Your love for Sana is pure. Don’t let anyone — not even someone like me — taint it. Love her the way your father loved me, but without my mistakes.”
Sana’s throat tightened, tears blurring her sight.
Roshni’s hand reached weakly toward her. “Sana… I knew who you were from the start. I knew you were Chandini’s daughter. And yet, I denied you your right, your name, your love. When you first came to me, I wanted to throw you out…”
Her hand shook as she pressed it against her heart. “But then… I saw it — the letter.”
Hatim’s head snapped up. “The letter?”
Roshni nodded faintly, a sad smile ghosting her lips. “Chandini’s letter. She wrote to me the night before she died. She said, ‘If my child ever reaches you, don’t see her as my mistake — see her as my promise. Protect her, even if you hate me.’”
Her eyes glazed with tears. “That letter stopped me that day. I couldn’t cast you out. But I was too weak to love you either. I kept you near, yet far — because every time I looked at you, Sana, I saw her. The sister I destroyed.”
Her body trembled violently, her breath faltering. “Chandini… I couldn’t keep my promise. I couldn’t protect your child… or your memory. I failed you as a friend, as a queen… as a woman.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, her final words a fragile whisper carried by the silence of the hall.
“Forgive me, Chandini…”
Her hand slipped from Hatim’s arm, her body collapsing gracefully to the marble floor. The jeweled crown beside her rolled away, clinking softly against the stone — a queen’s final surrender.
Sana knelt beside her, clutching the lifeless hand that once commanded empires. “May your soul find peace,” she whispered, voice trembling.
For the first time, the palace didn’t feel cursed. It felt quiet. Free.
Hatim fell to his knees, sword clattering beside him. He buried his face in his hands, sobs ripping through his chest.
From the corridor, Sana watched. Her hand clutched the pendant so tightly it dug into her skin. Her heart ached, not out of pity for the Queen, but for the man who was now broken before her.
The man who had once broken her heart… now shattered from within.
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The silence after Roshni’s fall was unbearable.
The air itself seemed to shiver, heavy with the weight of her final breath.
The crown lay abandoned on the cold marble, stained with drops of her blood.
Hatim remained on his knees, his shoulders heaving with grief, his face buried in his trembling hands.
And then—
The pendant at Sana’s neck began to glow.
Soft at first, like a firefly in the night, then brighter and brighter until its light spilled across the chamber, illuminating every corner. The flames of the torches bent inward, pulled by the unseen force. The air grew warmer, gentler, and in that glow… a figure began to take shape.
Sana gasped, her heart leaping into her throat.
It was her.
Chandini.
Clothed in flowing silver robes that shimmered like starlight, her hair drifting as though carried by a cosmic wind, her eyes deep with endless tenderness. She was radiant — not alive, not flesh, but spirit. And yet, to Sana, it felt like home.
The Queen who had been erased by history, silenced by betrayal, stood before her daughter at last.
“My child…” Chandini’s voice was soft as a lullaby, yet powerful enough to shake the walls. Her gaze met Sana’s, and a tear slipped down Sana’s cheek before she even realized she was crying.
“M-Mother…” Sana whispered, her voice breaking. She stumbled forward, her knees nearly giving out. “It’s you. It’s really you.”
Chandini reached out, her hand shimmering like smoke and light. She touched Sana’s cheek — and though it wasn’t solid, Sana felt warmth. The warmth of every embrace she had been denied.
“I knew,” Chandini whispered, smiling through tears. “I knew you would not let me and your father drown in silence. You carried our light. You carried our love.”
Sana clutched the pendant, sobbing freely now. “All this time… I thought I was cursed. I thought I was nothing.”
“No.” Chandini shook her head, her gaze steady, her spirit radiant. “You are everything. You are hope. You are proof that love survives beyond death, beyond betrayal, beyond lies. You are our miracle.”
Behind them, Hatim raised his head slowly. His face was pale, streaked with tears. His eyes widened as he beheld the spirit of Chandini, the woman his mother had tried to destroy, the woman whose life had been stolen for his sake.
“Q-Queen Chandini…” he whispered, broken.
Chandini turned to him, her glow softening. For a moment, Hatim flinched — expecting anger, condemnation, wrath. But instead… she smiled.
“Roshni was like a sister to me,” Chandini said softly, glancing at the fallen Queen’s body. Her expression was bittersweet, sorrow mingled with compassion. Then she looked back at Hatim. “And that makes you, Hatim… like a son.”
Hatim’s breath hitched. His chest caved in, grief and relief colliding inside him. “I… I don’t deserve that. Not after everything. Not after what I’ve done to Sana. Not after the blood on my hands.”
“You sought truth,” Chandini said gently. “You gave me justice when no one else could. You broke free from the chains she bound you with. That is enough.”
Hatim shook his head violently, tears spilling anew. “I killed my own mother…”
Chandini’s spirit stepped closer, her voice like the wind through leaves.
“No, Hatim. You freed her… from herself. She lived and died as a prisoner of her ambition. But you—” she touched his bowed head with a light that glowed like starlight, “—you chose love, even in your pain. For that, I thank you.”
Hatim’s sobs grew silent, his body trembling beneath the weight of her words. For the first time, the burden of his crown, of his blood, seemed to ease, if only slightly.
Sana watched, her own tears streaming. Seeing her mother not only forgive but bless Hatim… it shifted something deep inside her. She had hated him, despised him, yet… she saw the boy who had also been a victim of Roshni’s poison.
Chandini turned back to Sana, her form beginning to flicker, the glow around her body dimming.
“My time is ending,” she said softly. “The stars call me home. But I could not leave without meeting you…”
“Don’t go,” Sana begged, her voice breaking, her hands reaching out desperately. “Please, I just found you. Please don’t leave me again.”
Chandini cupped her daughter’s face with both shimmering hands. “I never left you, Sana. Every breath you took, every battle you fought, I was there. And I always will be. But now… I am free. And you must live.”
Sana’s chest caved in, sobs shaking her body. “How do I live without you?”
“With love,” Chandini whispered. “With courage. With the truth you carry. And with the shadow who walks beside you.”
As if summoned by her words, the air grew darker at the edges of the room. From the far corner, the Shadow emerged — tall, cloaked in swirling black smoke, his presence both terrifying and strangely familiar.
Sana stiffened, her heart pounding.
The Shadow bowed his head to Chandini. “It is time.”
Chandini nodded. Her glow brightened for a final moment, filling the room with starlight. She kissed Sana’s forehead — light against skin. “I love you, my moonbeam.”
And then, like a thousand sparks dissolving into night, her spirit drifted into the Shadow’s cloak. The darkness swallowed her gently, and the chamber fell silent once more.
The pendant at Sana’s neck dimmed, no longer glowing.
She collapsed to her knees, clutching it to her chest, her sobs echoing against the marble.
Hatim, still kneeling near his mother’s body, looked at Sana — and for the first time, truly saw her. Not as a rival. Not as a curse. But as a daughter of light, carrying the weight of a love that even death could not erase.
The Shadow lingered only a moment longer. His voice echoed like thunder and whisper all at once.
“The story is not yet over, child of starlight. But you are ready.”
The chamber was left with silence, two broken souls, a shadow staring and the faint memory of a mother’s love that had finally been freed.
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??? Author’s Note ???
I can’t even put my feelings into words right now ????.
Writing this chapter broke me and healed me at the same time.
Writing Roshni’s final moments was so heavy yet strangely beautiful — the Queen who began as a villain finally revealed her pain, her guilt, and her love in the most haunting way ????.
Roshni's fall, Hatim’s heartbreak, Sana’s tears… every scene felt like the end of an era ????. The moment the pendant glowed and Chandini appeared — I legit had goosebumps ?????.
And Hatim… oh Hatim ???? — watching him crumble, yet still finding forgiveness, was everything. The man who was born of cruelty, finally freed by love.
But that last moment — The Shadow’s words ???? — gave me chills. “The story is not yet over.” Like… WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN ???????
So tell me, my stars ??? — do you think Sana will ever be able to forgive Hatim? Or will this love be forever tangled in pain and fate? ?????